An American in Wales

Speaking English

The other day, Pea ran out of school to meeting, and said with much excitement “Momma, I’m a rag doll in the school play!” , to which I replied “A rag dog?? That’s wonderful!”

She looked at me crossly and said, “Not a rag doll mommy – a RAG DOLL”.

Confused, I said “That’s what I said — a rag doll.”

She stomped her foot in yelled in frustration “not a raag dahl, Mommy – a RAHG DOHL”.

Fantastic. Now I’m getting lessons in enunciation from a 4-year-old who calls pajamas “kajamas”.

Now, let’s get one thing straight – I am from the Midwest. Hence (according to my husband and his related mocking) I have a Midwestern accent.  Whatever. I’m having a hard enough time remembering to say “petrol” and not “gas” and (of course) “trousers” in lieu of the ever snigger-producing “pants”.

As I told Boo (when he corrected me from referring to the “car park” as a “parking lot”) – “its the same damn thing. And I’ve been calling it that for forty…a really long time. Some things just don’t change overnight”. Of course, he recently asked me why I don’t speak like everyone else here. (Because, you know, he lost HIS “accent” within 3 months of moving here. He talks just like his mates.)

I have to admit, I am still taken aback when a stranger stops me and says “I just love your accent.” Accent? I don’t have an accent. Everyone HERE has an accent. Heck, just waiting on the school grounds at home time you can probably hear no less than 4 different English accents and a Welsh one (or two) thrown in.

Who ever knew speaking English would be so difficult?

In the meantime, as the kidlings spell things like colour, flavour, and favourite, I can only wonder: what will they do with all those extra “U”s when we move back?

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